The King's Eyes
by Prism Queen AA-9
Summary: Arthur Kirkland sipped on his tea without thinking. He just replayed a small story in his mind about a little boy who grew to control most of the Earth. The King is allowed to reminiscence... right?


_Now kneel down..._

There once was a boy who grew up to king. The boy had a hard time growing though. He was often chased away by his very own flesh and blood and he was often shunned by others. The boy was small but he had amazing eyes that had the ability to see what others were blind to. He had friends that no one really saw and those who did remained silent thus leading everyone to believe that the same boy was insane. Yes the boy grew hurt but above all else he grew bitter. The eyes that saw wonder, the eyes full of dreams...of innocence...grew cold and acidic.

Soon the boy began taking his revenge. The battlefield soon became his natural habitat, the sea his freedom. It seemed that with the wave of his hand he could destroy that which tried to hurt him. He began to be filled with thoughts that he knew would never be forgiven. As he grew older he bloomed as a rose would. Beautiful, beautiful, and oh so prideful but all full of thorns. He destroyed the true love of his long time rival. He treated his family as enemies. He let no one so much as glance at his heart and pushed everyone away. He rose to power with every passing year. Soon in his wild actions he met a little boy.

The little boy made it through the thorns in his heart. They were happy and the wild child slowly started to be who he was again. But...revenge is a funny thing is it not? His rival came back. He struck hard because he had taken away two people he loved. Now the little boy also grew up. The little boy was convinced to abandon the other and he did. He left him weeping in the muddy battlefield. The thorns in his heart grew again stronger than ever. Sharp and vicious filled with poison.

The once innocent child, the once small child, now was king. The king was powerful. The dreadful rose of sin now was alone and any other that tried to be with him or beat him withered and succumbed to him. The king kept gaining more power. Soon he had 1/3 of the whole world in the palm of his hands. He built a throne high up above the clouds and almost reached the sun. He was blinded. His eyes shined with malice but remained with such beauty that could never be compared. The prideful king was everything everyone said he would never be. Powerful. Strong. Intelligent. Evil. Our little king forgot something though...

 _Pride comes before the fall and the higher they are, the harder they fall._

He fell.

* * *

His kingdom was war torn. He fought twice. He had help in the end of the first war. His power was dwindling. In the second war he fought until he was near death. Not once did he give up. He was helped once more by none other than the little boy who had made it into his heart but he was no little boy, now he was a "hero". Soon after that war his power was practically nothing. His empire a former glory. The world showed not a single sign of sympathy. But he was still the ever prideful lad and sneered at the world.

 _"Oh my, it's time for tea."_

It was his end after all. And that was the story of the little evil boy.

* * *

Time is slipping. It is trickling through your fingers but all you do is gaze out your window sipping tea in such an idle manner, Arthur Kirkland, England. Yes here we have the king...the little boy from our story. You had the world in your hands and let it slip away from you. You've lost everything. You have nothing. What is your worth? What will the king of evil do now?

He sighed as he finished his tea. He peaked at the calendar quickly. It was that date. _'How silly.'_ He thought to himself. _'Perhaps I am the king of evil but I also hold more regrets than they know'_ He walked away from his home and into the woods. He thought to himself as the stars shone twinkling. He regret how he hurt his family. He now understood that they were making him stronger in their own way. Cruel perhaps but effective. The burning of Jeanne. He regret that. Not because he ordered it. No. He had actually tried to get her saved, he tried to stop what was coming. He was punished and regret his weakness because he couldn't save the saint, the love of his rival. Not that he would let France ever know. He regret being over protective. He regret his bitterness. He regret, regret, regret. What would he do now? Alone the rose of evil was wilting. Not that anyone cared.

They say that death is the only certain thing. For a nation though, when would that be? When would the arrow of judgement pierce him?

Good bye, see you never. That is what he thought that is what he felt but he would always come back. He didn't know anymore. He was trapped in an endless circle. Now all that was left was for him to drown in his memories once more in hopes to find a way to move forward once more. His beautiful eyes remained enchanting but now they've grown weary.

Despite everything, despite his wicked crimes, despite being the king of evil, he was still a child in the inside. He was stilled starved of love. But he was still alone, wasn't he? But of course he was. His thorns remained. They ended up poisoning him. Who could help. Not even a hero could save him, right?

 _Now repent…_

* * *

 ** _A/N:_**

Short story I wrote quickly one morning. Lame. For a small contest on +G.

I was inspired by Story of Evil and the cover of Daughter of White by Enn Sings, CHECK IT OUT! Enn did spectacularly!


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